Hard Reset
by Xeptin Bamboo
Summary: [Yogscast/The Creatures Crossover] When the Yogscraft world finally goes up in an explosion, just like all the servers before it, it's the final straw for Ridgedog - sick and tired of resetting the world over again, he decides to teleport in a new group of people to try and solve their problems. It's too bad the server always has some way of corrupting newcomers.


**[A/N: Sorry for the rather short chapter, but I guess it's a prologue, after all o3o/**

**(AKA: No action)]**

* * *

And there it was again.

The flash of an explosion, too familiar and too much of a common occurrence to Ridgedog to warrant any _real_ interest in the event. The bright light slowly encompassed the area around where the first one shook the earth, spreading out as a sphere that ensured anybody in the range had a fiery, painful death. In the corner of his eye, he was almost sure that he saw a flailing body part, possibly an arm or a leg, burnt and slowly dissolving as it froze right above the ground and turned into code once more.

The sound came later than the explosion - a thunder that bore right into the fibre of one's being, unlike anything that anyone had ever heard. For a few brief moments when the ear-splitting sound passed over him, he lazily floated down and watched it all from the ground.

_This must be the third time it's happened..._, he mused, glancing at the blocky ground floating up into the air as numbers, _Notch, when will they learn?_

A tree came down right beside him as the second explosion rang out, probably Honeydew Inc's final hurrah. Not like it was going to help anyone.

_And of course_ I _have to fix this mess_. _Even when I was almost sure introducing new people would help...-_, he paused, sighing and sitting down in the void that was spreading across the landscape, It's like a cycle. It doesn't stop, it only gets extended - spawn, build, destroy.

But how does one break the cycle?

Ridgedog a few years ago would have said, "Pluck people out from an existing server and put them in the one you want happy. Variables might change the outcome."

Ridgedog right now would say the exact same thing.

Who _cares_ about the old one? Like Xephos and Honeydew, it only took a quick meeting to convince them that their adventures through Minecraftia were just some kind of dream, and they seemed happy to accept that as the answer. Ridgedog noticed the blatant sadness that was etched into their eyes, how they looked down at the ground and how their shoulders would slacken (mostly Xephos, as he noticed later) when he asked if something happened in their 'dream' that would turn it into a nightmare.

He never did get the answer out of them.

It took a bit more convincing to get Xephos to forget some of his head admin powers - a little bit of sabotage here to undermine his confidence, a bit of disabling server commands for the whole world to make sure he knows - or at least thinks - that the spaceman only _dreamt_ of the godlike power that Ridgedog currently possessed, and ultimately, to make him settle down in this new world of machine and rivalries without rebelling.

Ridgedog still took caution around the spaceman, and even decided that he was of equal status of him.

Servers. Yes. The one Xephos came from was probably in disorder and chaos by now, from their description of the world. They were suppose to be the great heroes, the ones that would stop the land from being overtaken by sand and mobs. Ridgedog shuddered at the thought of what kind of hellhole that place had become.

He slowly closed his eyes, the blinding yellow-tinted white that rolled towards him being the last he saw of the server. With a few fluid motions and whispered commands that he had memorised long ago, he felt the essence of nature and physical form disappear from around him.

A server reset, or as he wanted to do this time, a _complete_ world overhaul.

When he opened them again, his vision was met by an intricate net of hexagons, shapes, and lines, all connected together with snippets of code and incomprehensible writing floating around each shape.

He smiled as his eyes took in the beautiful landscape of numbers and letters strewn together, in a kind of text incomprehensible to all but Ridgedog. This was his territory, what he was familiar - and _the best_ - in.

Where the server was hosted, the landscape where the very code of everyone and _everything_ that resided the to-be-resetted server was forged in. Bland, but served it's purpoe.

Each line meant a connection, whether it meant the bright red that fluctuated when one shape fought with another, the green that symbolised being at peace with each other - or as he saw right now, the murky yellow that meant that tensions were mounting between the two parties.

The yellow seemed to be every single line that connected all of them together.

At the centre of it all, two shapes stood tall and proud with a little symbol at the top - a picture of himself and Xephos were plastered at the front, flickering ever so slightly in the comforting rhythm that everything bobbed in. The head admins, one not even knowing of his power.

He smirked. With this layout right in front of him, he could change everything - from the mobs, flicked out with a swipe of a finger, the blocks that naturally spawned in, easy to change with a light movement - and therefor, easy to accidentally mess up, or even the mods installed - a big, giant, series of hexagons all connected together without any lines, each one showing a picture of the thing that it introduced, along with a brief description. The current layout, -YOGSCRAFT- seemed bug-free and rather balanced, so Ridgedog didn't bother with it. Of course, that's what he wanted to do with -TEKKIT- and -VOLTZ-, but the former proved to be too easy and the latter, too destructive.

-VOLTZ- also managed to glitch out so badly that the head admin powers didn't work properly, so there was that.

The wide variety of people that inhibited the world, however, needed some tweaking to do.

Ridgedog floated over to the mess of lines and shapes that held the people together, from the orange and brown hexagon of Honeydew, currently green at everyone except for a certain few, to the deep purple hexagon of Rythian, with runes floating around his name to show that he was an adept magic user. His connections were mostly at red, and sometimes a bit of yellow thrown in for good measure.

Most of the information about their settings, what they had (a small grid that one could show by flicking the hexagon down that showed every item they had on them), and even their feelings were blank - the server was completely gone, after all.

With one small finger movement, a whole new slew of characters - people, with pasts that were still going - appeared in front of him.

Now this was interesting.

Seemingly no big adventures, just a bunch of jokers (as Sips would call them, if he wasn't burnt to a crisp by now) milling around their world, leaving TNT craters and mostly finished buildings in their wake. No mods, just plain old hard work to get them through life, death, and respawns.

The best thing was, their connections were hovering at a very bright green.

Even though, as the history for two of them showed, they were suppose to be bitter rivals or something.

He glanced at their names, a thin smile spreading over his face. This group was perfect to introduce to the already existing hexagons that floated in the corner. He was too transfixed by the pure aura that emanated from this batch to notice anything else that was wrong in the coding.

That **all **of them happened to be admins.

He was so sure in his abilities of picking out servers, _universes,_ to copy and paste into his own little world. His soon to be perfect world.

He pulled up a string of numbers, a 'seed' to plant into the code of the world to show what to generate, and gingerly placed it in the code with a slightly twitch of his fingers.

These were going to be the people to finally break the world out of it's loop that angered him so much. Everything was going to go how Ridgedog liked it, at all costs.

Nova. Seamus. Sly. Ze. Chill̗ͅe̗̙̗̺̝d.

T̠͘hi̡̩̬̼̙s̪̙̙̭̺̟̘̕ ̵͚̬̝w̹̹͘á̟͙̮ͅs̮ ̵g͙̠o̰i̡͙̜͎̩̰n̫̱̦̰͝g̼̗̗̫ ͖͡t̫̙͕̳͡o̵ ̬̰̝̠͔̖̟b̭e̟͖͉̹̭̩̳͝ ͎ͅf̨͎̣̹̙̮̪u͘n҉̤̞̫.̢̜͓̜̗̠


End file.
